


Why Are We So Fucking Awesome?

by MistCover



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistCover/pseuds/MistCover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave meets Future Dave and sexytimes happen. Originally written as a gift for a friend, so probably sloppier than I'd like, but oh well, he enjoyed it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Are We So Fucking Awesome?

Being the Knight of Time and the chillest motherfucker you know, it didn’t phase your cool at all when another you appeared in a flash of red-tinted light.  
“Sup.” You say. You offer a fist.  
“Sup.” Other you mutters, meeting you halfway. Something has hurt future you’s cool. Maybe not middle of July in Austin, but the temperature around his cool is definitely set to “thaw”. That does hurt your bitchin’ poker face for a fraction of a second, but you clamp down on that fucker like a baby clamps on it’s mother’s tit. Other you’s eyes flash, and you can tell he’s biting his lip to stay focused.  
You both stand there for a solid minute, hands buried in your pockets and your postures mirrors of forced cool around a throughly weirded out center.  
“I think we should fuck,” future Dave finally says. He pushes his shades up his nose, making it impossible for you to read even the tops of his eyes. “We’re basically the coolest assholes in paradox space and our balls are bluer than Vriska’s blood. We have, quite literally, all the time to fuck around.” His voice hitches a fraction of an octave and you just know this guy’s seriously losing his shit over there, and your shit is threatening to go AWOL on you.  
“I’m gay for me? No way in Hell,” you say in your coolkid monotone, “I’m pretty sure something’s jumped ship in your brain and it’s now drowning in a sea of shitty puppet ass and-” you don’t have time to finish that metaphor, which was basically going nowhere anyways, when other you grabs your shirt and -son of a bitch!- kisses you.  
And damn does it feel good, his lips are warm and ever so slightly moist. Poker face, Strider, poker face, you remind yourself. He’s kissing you softly, no tongue at all, but you can tell from how one of his hands is gripping your hair and his other hand still hasn’t let go of your shirt that he wants so much more. For the barest of moments, you allow yourself to want him back just as badly, because fuck does it feel good to kiss yourself.  
So your cool skedaddles the fuck out of there as his tongue makes its first curious forays into your mouth and your poker face shatters. It’s fucked up, more fucked up than anything the game could have thrown at you. Dave Junior, however, is waking up as you let your tongue against his.  
Other you breaks the kiss with a pop, stepping back.  
“I’m leaving then, since you’re not interested and everything,” he says, pulling out his -your? whatever- timetables.  
“You absolute bastard, you know that’s not what I-” and he’s sliding against you again, running his tongue up your neck like it’s the best fucking popsicle he’s ever had and it’s a hundred and three degrees outside. You let out just the barest exhale, eyes rolling back into your head because he knows exactly what you like, or rather what you’ve though about when you’re alone. Hands find their way up your shirt and you’re pushing him to the ground, throwing him off balance and shameless rutting against anything you can reach, because at this point you’re just a desperate, horny mess. His hands are still moving, never stopping, clawing down your back and drawing thin lines of blood, until they hook into your pants and pull.  
Then your pants are gone and you are even more aware of how painfully hard you’ve become. You redouble the intensity of your fevered tonsil hockey, and then your shirt is gone and his shirt is gone and you’re both breathing really heavily while the awkwardness of the situation threatens to completely ruin the mood. But he’s shifting his weight, and you’ve been pinned beneath Bro enough times to know what’s coming next as he casually flips you off of him and onto your back. Future Dave plants a line of kisses down your toned abs, down to your bellybutton, down to oh shit-  
Damn it Strider, you chide yourself, don’t lose control of your thoughts. He licks up and down the underside of your held shaft, lazily cupping your balls with his other hand. Almost as a side note, he pops you into his mouth and takes the length of you, down into his throat, and sucks. At that point you’re just a bundle of nerves, all racing electricity and sparks that come straight from your crotch and mix up all the circuits in your brain like you’re some turntables that got apple juice spilled on them. You hear a noise, a chuckle, from the you currently servicing your aching boner. Bastard dares to laugh at your writhing, uncontrolled, sweaty- oh fuck he has every right to laugh you would too if you saw yourself like this. After what feels like an eternity of future your sucking you off, he pulls back, pulling out a bottle of lube from his sylladex. He slicks his fingers with the clear gel and lays back, spreading his legs wide enough that you can see his asshole, and the fingers he’s guiding towards it.  
Yeah that’s me, you think, ass whore of Skaia. Should a finger go in that easily, slipping in like it was meant to be inside of him? You thought that only happened when there was an unholy amount of lube or practice or both. You make a mental note for when you become future Dave not to look quite as insane when you’re openly displaying your ass to your past self. There it is, your cool beginning to frost over your features again as he works a third finger inside, lube squelching in and out of the hole with each slow, deliberate thrust. He beckons you forward, and you are not the kind to leave a bro hanging.  
You kneel in front of him, taking the bottle and slathering as much lube as you can on your shaft, giving yourself a couple of slow pumps to spread it. Okay, you think, game face on. For a second you hesitate, pressing against his ass, but it’s too late to back out now, so you push in, slowly, just barely putting the tip in and oh god it’s hot in there. And tight, almost painfully tight, but you continue onward, inch by inch, until you’re seated entirely inside of him. Both of you are flushed deep crimson by now as you pull out and slide back in. Your efforts are rewarded with a groan from your counterpart as he tightens around you and reaches to stroke his own member. You settle into a rhythm, a slow rocking back and forth as other you groans and pants.  
Fuck everything you’re getting close way before you wanted to. It looks like future you is too though, because his speed has picked up in time with yours. Both of your are just piles of overstimulated nerves and you’re so close you can taste it, but then you’re not close you’re cumming and he’s cumming and it’s all over both of your chests and you empty your balls inside of yourself (wow that’s all sorts of fucked up) and the both of you collapse into a heap of sweat and Dave.  
He wiggles out from underneath you after a few seconds, and as you turn around and gather yourself he pulls out the timetables and is gone.  
Well. Shit.


End file.
